


One Second, One Lifetime

by rokubiraijuu



Series: Fanfiction Commissions [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokubiraijuu/pseuds/rokubiraijuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commission for agent-henley; features my Jotunn!Loki and her original character, from blogs ofancientwinters (mine), and agent-henley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Second, One Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioner: agent-henley  
> Fandom/Ship: Winter&Aura (Original characters)  
> Final Page Count: 6  
> Prompt: During the late hours of the evening, Winter sneaks Aura in to the palace in Jotunnheimr to show her his home. From the great halls and library, to the balconies over looking the city, to his private chambers. It's cold, so he swaddles her in furs, but once in his chambers (or the grand archive), he shows her just how much he loves her.  
> Completion Date: 8/19/2013
> 
> author's note: i am beginning to take official commissions for fanfiction of any kind, OCs permitted. all my information is on my tumblr: ofancientwinters (on the sidebar) | please feel free to commission if there's anything you want to see!

“Are you weary? We can rest here if you would like; the palace is just beyond this hill.” Slowing his step a little, Loki frowned at the almost unrecognizable form beside him, swaddled so thickly in furs and cloaks until he was certain that none of the guards would see her for who she truly was that she was almost little more than a bundle of cloth. It would have been endearing – and it was – but the prince’s thoughts were more focused on the fact that Aura’s pace had been slowing since they had arrived. Gently, he slid an arm about her waist, pulling her a little towards him as if that single movement alone would restore her strength.

After a heartbeat, the figure in the bundle of cloth shook her head, the fall of her auburn tresses, now dusted with white flecks of snow where they extended beyond the reach of the cloak’s hood, being one of the few indications of the disparity between her and the realm where they stood. “I’m all right,” she replied, her voice a soft melody against his ears, and Loki merely sighed, pressing his face to the side of her head for a moment. “Really.” Turning slightly, she reassured him with a tiny kiss on the cheek, her lips still warm against his skin despite their frigid surroundings. It was the first time Loki had ever purposely brought a Midgardian here to his home, but he had had quite a few experiences with those of other realms walking the subzero lands of Jotunheim and what prolonged exposure did to them. He himself, obviously, had never experienced the same degree of cold, but Loki assumed it was something similar to when he stayed outdoors on Midgard for an extended period of time and allowed the sun to take its draining toll on his body, not meant to withstand such temperatures.

He was concerned for Aura – prior to their arrival, he had made sure to wrap her in as many layers as permissible while not restricting movement. “I would carry you, love, if you would let me.” He smiled, half teasing, and was rewarded with a small smile of Aura’s own. After stealing another quick kiss, he carried on, making sure to keep a close watch on her.

A concealing spell, much like the sort he wore when he explored the realm of humans, kept her face shrouded from any guards who might see them, preventing them from recognizing pale skin and non-Jotunn features. Though his presence should have been enough to assuage any suspicions of trespass or unauthorized entry, Loki would have rather preferred not to arouse curiosity. One way or another, the prince of Jotunheim being seen escorting a young Midgardian woman would lead to murmurings and questions, and if possible, Loki wished this to be kept from common knowledge. It bit him like venom to know he was sneaking Aura in as though she was some prisoner or unwanted secret, but there was no other course.

When at last the great doors of the palace loomed before them, dark spires rising high against the backdrop of cloud-slate sky, Loki took Aura’s hand in his own and turned, gesturing at the broad expanse in front of them, the way they had come. With their sanctuary now in reach, it was much easier to take a deep breath and look back on their journey. “Jotunheim, my love.” He felt, more than heard, the breath of awe escape her in a long exhale as he rested his chin against the top of her head, smiling to himself. Not many found Jotunheim impressive. To those of Asgard and, admittedly, of many other realms, the realm of frost giants was nothing more than a barren wasteland of snow: featureless, empty, foreboding, and dark; constantly cold and unforgiving to the visitor. While some of these, perhaps, were true, Loki had always seen it differently. Looking out now on the endless miles-long stretches of snow under an equally as eternal sky, rolling ivory hills and vast plains, there was a mysticism about it, all that untouched, pristine whiteness. His heart swelled just gazing upon it now – to him, there was beauty in the silence. Once, before she had seen this land with her own eyes, Aura had said the same to him. And now that she was here, seeing for the first time what she had ever only imagined, he was only too pleased to hear that she was not disappointed.

“It’s beautiful…” The words were tucked within another astounded breath, the wisps of their syllables floating on the curling tendril of steam that puffed from her mouth whenever she breathed out. “I mean it, Loki, truly. Absolutely stunning. I had never imagined seeing something like this.”

With each word, Loki felt his smile widen, until it threatened to split his face in two. There were few things in this world the young prince could claim to truly be proud of, but his realm and home were one of them. And to have them validated by the one he loved – it was almost likened to being validated himself. He gave Aura’s shoulders a fond squeeze, such warm softness under his palms, and resisted the urge to press another kiss to her cheeks for their proximity to the gate guards. “I am pleased to hear you are enjoying the view. But you have not even seen the greatest we have to offer. Come, inside. It will be warmer as well.” 

The palace of Jotunheim was crafted of a mixture of stone, metals from both the dwarves and beneath the snow of their own mountains, and ice hardened through magic to make it as impenetrable as stone. The combination lent the structure a majestic, translucent quality, with some places of it as penetrable to the eye as murky glass, images beyond the ice twisted just enough to obscure, to provide a sensation of mystery. It was an imposing structure, almost concealed behind the perpetually dark skies and whirlwinds of snow despite its grandeur, not as ostentatious as the palace of Asgard in its glittering gold, but more austere, a more somber older sibling to Asgard’s shining flamboyance. Once they had entered the entry hall, the lack of winds considerably lifted the temperature of the air. Even though much of the palace was open to the air or at least had the capacity to be, the architects who had constructed it had designed the passageways and walls to be at the perfect angle to obstruct the creation of drafts. Thus, the monstrous winds that could plague the outdoors never reached beyond the solid walls to the inside, broken by the tented furrows in the sides of the building so as to lessen their tempestuous force. 

The body’s natural defenses against cold rushed in almost instantly and Aura shivered against Loki’s side, feeling her limbs ache as blood rushed back through the veins. “Out of curiosity,” she murmured, attempting to force her teeth to stop chattering, “is it always so cold in Jotunheim?” 

Loki chuckled, guiding his guest further away from the doors and into an adjacent hall. “Often colder,” he admitted, stepping behind her once they were within suitable privacy and rubbing his hands up and down along her arms, attempting to warm her. “I tried to find a mild day for you to come; truthfully, we’re fortunate a storm did not sneak up on us while we were traveling.” He stepped away from her a little as a servant rounded the corner towards them, greeting his prince with a respectful bow and a courteous greeting, which Loki returned with a nod of acknowledgement. The servant then bowed to Aura as well, who collected herself enough to offer a greeting in return before watching him continue on his way past them. 

“A prince you most certainly are, my dear,” she chuckled as they kept walking, glad to feel sensation returning to her extremities. Of course, she had known of Loki’s status since the moment they had first met many months ago, but the title had always come with a sense of detachment. Loki, though he held himself with the poise of royalty and carried himself with privileged dignity, rarely spoke of his position unless she asked. He was modest even when she pressed, and with him Aura often found herself forgetting that a prince was a rather big deal, and not simply a role title like ‘carpenter’ or ‘teacher’ for how casually he spoke of it. But here, seeing him in the surroundings where he was seen and treated as a respected figurehead, it was very different. The puzzle pieces fell into place as she watched, and here in Jotunheim his royal posture was not out of the ordinary, but fitting, his almost imperial gaze not condescending, but appropriate, when there were those who responded in kind. 

True to Loki’s hopes, none passing stole a second glance at Aura despite the heavy adornment of her clothing. Largely, he knew, it was because he walked with her, and so the chances of her being a threat were much lower. He wished her to be anonymous; perhaps a visiting dignitary from another realm, or maybe a noble of a far tribe who had come to the royal city. A few nodded to her as well when they greeted their prince, for they assumed that to walk in the presence of their future monarch, she must have been a distinguished guest. In this manner, Loki took her about his home, allowing their pace to be slow so that she might take in every feature she possibly could with those wide, bright eyes that he so loved. It was immensely satisfying to see how enraptured she was by the sights; every corner was something inspiring; she seemed to find something to awe her wherever she turned. The grandeur of a particular statue, enormous and magnificent in its glory in the center of the palace’s main rotunda, reaching nearly to the domed ceiling, drew a gasp from her, which made Loki’s chest swell with pride.

“Our ancestor Bergelmir,” Loki explained, gesturing to the pale, milk-colored crystal sculpture of the frost giant, large brow furrowed in concentration, one arm lifted, clutching a hammer in his hand, a moment away from bringing it down to strike a chunk of metal positioned on an anvil. Every contour, every muscle was perfectly detailed in the crystal, down to the famous stripes flowing from his eyes, tapering at his chin – tears shed during the aftermath of the first war against the Aesir. “He was an artisan, a craftsman like many of his supposed descendents now.” Loki glanced at Aura, amused by the appreciation with which she gazed upon the enormous sculpture. “The worship of Bergelmir is no longer the orthodox religion, but he have kept his likeness here to help us remember how we came to be, many, many ages ago.”

A few more heartbeats of silence filled the space between them, the echoes of conversations and passing bodies around them providing the white noise as Aura continued to gaze for a few more moments. “How fascinating,” she remarked, and Loki glanced at her curiously. “One would expect a stature of something much grander in the center of a palace – a warrior, perhaps, or a great king. And yet Bergelmir was nothing more than a poor craftsman. Maybe the modesty I congratulated you for when we first met is something inherent in your kind?”

Loki only smiled – he had never quite thought of it that way before. Bergelmir was, for them, such an outstanding figure that he was venerated often as if he were a king. “But humans are similar, are they not?” he asked as they continued around to the other side of the rotunda. “As I recall from what I have read, Jesus’ father was but a carpenter. Jesus himself was born in a manger, yes? Humble beginnings for all of us.” 

He took her then through the halls as best as he could, spending the better part of the day simply showing her around the vastness of the palace. The library, though splendid, was not something Loki found himself terribly proud of, though it certainly caught Aura’s eye well. She insisted it was much larger than anything ever found on Midgard, but Loki only laughed and claimed that was because Jotunheim had been around for longer. Compared to, for example, the collections of Alfheim, Vanaheim, or even Asgard, Jotunheim’s number of books and scrolls were sparse, at best, if not entirely lacking. The tops of the spires, of course, were a necessity, and were the better view that Loki had spoken of earlier. His fear of heights kept him from the edge, but he was content to watch Aura’s splendid reaction when he had uncovered her eyes to reveal the eternal stretch of icy plains as far as the eye could see. He had pointed out to her the snow-dusted trees of the forest behind the palace, the thin snaking line of the river beyond carving a trench into the ivory stretch of snowbank, and the crests of the beginnings of the Eyrr mountains, mere shadows against the darkness far in the distance, cloaked by the snow.

As the day wound down, after a private evening meal in his chambers, Loki was more than content to simply let her rest. Walking the entire day up and down stairs and through stone-floored halls was not comfortable, and she was understandably exhausted. Their conversation was light, affectionate, gentle murmurings in the sanctuary of his bedroom where they would not be disturbed. After a servant prepared his customary evening bath for him, Loki guided her gently into the warm water before easing in beside her, a fond smile on his lips as he pressed a kiss to the easy slope of her neck. “Is my realm to your liking, my love?” he whispered, a knowing question brushed against her damp skin as he smoothed his fingers through her hair in long, rhythmic strokes. 

Aura allowed herself to relax as she seldom did, closing her eyes and leaning back against him, feeling the press of his comparatively cool body to her back, the firmness of taut muscle and skin to her skin. “It is. Jotunheim is astounding – a winter wonderland.” She smiled, a touch of mirth disturbing her relaxation at her own small jest. “I never did meet your family, Loki.” Opening her eyes again, she turned her head slightly to look back at him, gently assessing the look of brief tension that came over his countenance. “And I’m sure there’s much more we didn’t get to explore.”

“It would take days to show you every corner,” he replied, nuzzling against her shoulder and pressing another adoring kiss there. “And my family… perhaps another time. My only regret is that I could not let you see the throne room. Perhaps once the palace sleeps, when my father does not conduct his business there, I will sneak you in.” He chuckled, playfully nipping at the spot where he’d kissed, letting his hands slide under the water over her sides, her skin like satin against the comparative roughness of his palms.

“Don’t go through too much trouble for my sake.”

Loki’s lips turned up in a wry smile against her skin. “I would, regardless.” One hand smoothed back up until his fingers were caressing the spaces between her ribs, gravitating upwards further. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, curious crimson. “May I?” His words were cautious, but both knew they carried more than simply the innocent question of touch. He paused, the hesitation of a doting lover, but Aura’s smile was more than enough permission.

“You may.”

It was a breath, an acquiescence, and Loki didn’t let himself wait a moment longer but he let himself capitulate, succumbing to the grace of the woman he had fallen in love with. He would always be staggered by her beauty, and here like this with him, silkily naked in his bath, the tips of her mahogany tresses dragging and floating in the clear surface, she was captivating, her magnificence as irresistible as winter’s first snowfall. His hands traversed up without fear then, cupping the fullness of her breast and squeezing, drawing a gasp from her as the kisses he pressed to her neck and shoulder became impassioned with want, turned to sucks that left the faintest of red blossoming against pale skin.

Soon, she turned fully to face him, and for a moment all Loki could do was stare, let his eyes wander over the expanse of her torso, the curves that he could call his own. Then his eyes were drawn back up and their mouths met in a heated kiss, soft moans muffled against swollen lips as Loki settled his hands against the dip of her hips and Aura wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. One cerulean hand slid up to continue their stimulation against her breasts, marveling at how they drew such wonderful reactions from her; he could feel every shudder, every roll of her body against his own, heat beginning to fill him underneath the coolness of his skin. He was so caught up in her, in everything of Aura Henley, that he barely even noticed his body had responded and that he had begun to open until her hand crept down between them under the water’s surface, disappearing from his view only to wrap emboldened fingers around his emerging length. Now it was Loki’s turn to tear away from her mouth with a moan, his jaw tightening when he kissed her again, harder this time.

His arousal grew rapidly then with the aid of her touch, and within minutes of her hand mapping the length of his erection, her thumb easing at the head, coaxing shudders from him as he clutched her ever closer, he was panting, his eyes flushed a darker ruby when he opened them to gaze at her with all the adoration he could muster, a volatile cocktail of lust and love that had him aching desperately. “Aura – “

She rocked her hips against him, a sensual invitation, her skin brushing against the sensitive organ, a low purr emanating from the prince’s throat as he tilted his head back. “Have me, Loki,” she murmured, kissing at his jaw, and he wasted no further time after that, both hands dropping to her waist to grip her hips and lift her bodily onto him. There was no need to guide himself in – the head of his erection teased against her opening, brushing against folds swollen and aching for him, and he kissed her again, heady, passionate, needy, as he lowered her gently onto his length, their groans mixing in the spaces between their mouths as he filled her slowly.

Despite the urgency of their desire, their lovemaking was slow and measured, the bathwater barely lapping at them as they moved against each other in a sensuous ripple of motion. Low pants and gasps filled the air, clouded with steam, Aura rocking herself against the man who held her close, kept her steady, gazed up at her with boundless devotion as he bucked his hips minutely, as much as he could without jostling her or disturbing their established rhythm, as though she were the only thing he knew how to comprehend. Both were filled with a heady euphoria, pleasure cracking through every nerve with each thrust, Loki gripped in a tight, searing heat that reduced him to little more than moaning and breathless exclamations of Aura’s name puncutating the soundlessness, and Aura herself stretched blissfully open by her lover’s girth, filled inexorably, joined with the one who gave her such peace and solace.

Inevitably though, the slow worship of their lovemaking escalated, grew frenzied as both drew closer to orgasm, Loki uttering soft growls as his moans died down to rapid panting, echoed in a higher pitch by his partner. His grip on her hips tightened, his thrusts became sharper, stronger, snaps of his hips up into her body as his desperation mounted. Each one drew a little cry from Aura’s parted lips as she struggled to keep pace with the stilted rhythm, her fingers tangling in the curtain of Loki’s hair as she felt a coiling within her gut, felt herself tighten around him. 

His name was a mantra, quiet and reverent on her tongue when she finally unwound, all the pressure in her cresting up and outwards in a wave. She trembled atop him, clenching and unclenching again and again around the hardness of his length buried deep within her, a vicegrip that dragged Loki over the edge after her mere heartbeats later. He let out a snarl, doubling forward a little against her chest as he stilled, filling her with his seed, his hips still stuttering in tiny bursts as he spent himself within the heat of her body. 

They were quiet afterwards, blood pounding through veins, panting filling the air as they rested to catch their breath, slumped against each other. The water had ceased to lap against the bath’s edge, easing down to settle into placid serenity once more. Loki let Aura remain where she was; he would slip out of her as his body calmed and his length eased back inside, and once he had regained enough strength he lifted his head to mouth lovingly against her hairline, a satisfied smile curling his lips. “Perfection,” he murmured, curling one hand against the small of her back to keep her close to him, the other still resting at her hip, thumb rubbing in circles at the bone. After a moment, Aura lifted her head, forehead damp with sweat, and returned his sweet smile, pressing a kiss to one curved horn that only made Loki shiver with residual pleasure. Wordlessly, they remained there, a pair of decadent hearts content to revel in their entwined solitude for just one second, one lifetime longer.


End file.
